


The Way Home

by AnnaKnitsSpock



Series: Please Come Home Series [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Old Married Spirk Challenge, Space Husbands, kirk/spock - Freeform, old married spirk, spirk, spock prime - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8691364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaKnitsSpock/pseuds/AnnaKnitsSpock
Summary: After 97 years without his husband, Spock is still trying to adjust to Jim's return from the Nexus. Luckily, Jim is determined to coax his husband back to happiness.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my contribution to the wonderful [plaidshirtjimkirk](http://plaidshirtjimkirk.tumblr.com/)’s 2016 Old Married Spirk [Challenge](http://oldmarriedspirk.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> This little fic is another follow-up to [I’ll Be Home for Christmas](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5441465/chapters/12575276), set 2 months after the coda.

_2360_

_Starfleet Academy was always familiar to Spock, no matter how much the buildings had changed in the century since Spock was a cadet. There was a peace in this place but, like so many other places, Jim’s ghost walked here among the students and professors._

_Spock had just given a guest lecture and was on his way to a meeting with several admirals at Headquarters. The rush of frantic cadets switching classes surged around him and he moved with the eddies of their changing directions until he reached the main lobby._

_As he always did, as he was never able to avoid doing, Spock stopped at the wall of holo-images displaying the command teams of all starships commissioned since Starfleet’s inception. His fingers lifted of their own accord and traced Jim’s smiling face. This image had been captured after they were bonded, and Jim had his arm around Spock, professional but still much closer than any of the other captains and first officers on this wall. Spock refused to look at his own likeness—he had no desire to see the relaxed set of his shoulders, the slight expression of happiness on his face. He would never again feel such safety and peace because he would never again be in Jim’s arms. That security did not exist anywhere else._

_“What was he like?” said a friendly voice at Spock’s elbow, and he turned to find a cadet smiling up at him. “Captain Kirk, I mean. You served with him for a long time, right? We’re studying him in my History of Starfleet class.”_

_Spock almost smiled. How it would amuse Jim to know he had become curricular._

_“Yes, I served with him for 28 years. He was… perfect.”_

_The cadet laughed. It hadn’t been a joke._

_“Perfect to me, at least,” Spock clarified softly, and the cadet’s laugh trailed awkwardly away._

_“If you don’t mind my asking, are those rumors true?”_

_Spock took her in, all eager brown eyes and messy curly hair, a PADD stylus sticking out of her haphazard ponytail. It was inappropriate for her to talk to him so informally, so personally. But he was curious._

_“To which rumors do you refer?”_

_“That you and Kirk were… you know. Together.”_

_Spock blinked at her. After a moment he managed to say, a bit more sharply than he had intended, “That is presented as a_ rumor _? Captain Kirk and I were bonded in the Vulcan form of marriage for 20 years. There was nothing clandestine about our relationship.”_

_The poor cadet’s mouth moved in the shape of an “Oh,” but no sound came out. Spock sighed._

_“My apologies. It is difficult to speak of him.” He glanced at Jim’s picture once again, at his sweet, bright grin, his hand clasping Spock’s shoulder reassuringly._

_“I’m so sorry,” the cadet whispered. Spock waved his hand. “There can be no offense where none is taken. Now if you will excuse me, I have an appointment at Starfleet Headquarters.”_

_Without looking at her, Spock escaped from the lobby into the outdoor courtyard. As he crossed the stone plaza, his breath started coming faster, shallowing, heart hammering in his side until he was forced to stop and lean against a tree. The cold February day had seeped into the bark, rough and icy under Spock’s sensitive palm._

_Sometimes the knowledge that he would never see Jim again, that he had never even gotten to say goodbye, became a suffocating episode of panic. It would pass if Spock could employ the right breathing techniques but it was difficult—_

_Black dots began to pop in the corners of Spock’s vision. He tried to get air in, tried to draw upon his many decades of Vulcan training, but his mind kept coming back to Jim as if he were a magnet, a gravitational force—_

_Spock could not breathe, and maybe that was acceptable, maybe 67 years was the limit of time he could bear this grief, maybe death would be a relief. The black dots were growing larger, swallowing him up, his head ached where the bond used to be, he needed Jim. He needed Jim but Jim was gone and he was never—_

“Spock! Spock honey, wake up. You’re dreaming, honey, wake up now.”

Spock slowly opened his eyes. Warm orange light was spilling in from the bedroom windows, he was comfortably warm, and above him was Jim’s impossible, beautiful face.

Jim smiled, a hand on each of Spock’s shoulders, thumbs rubbing gently.

“Hey, there you are. Another nightmare?”

Spock nodded, reaching up to put his hands on Jim’s face, drink him in. Jim closed his eyes and leaned a cheek into Spock’s palm, turning to leave a quick kiss there before shooing Spock’s hands away and helping him sit up against the headboard, slipping a pillow behind his back to ease the pain in his old joints. 

“What was it this time?”

“A cadet asked me about you at the Academy in… 2360, I think. Yes. 2360.” 

Jim sat on the edge of the bed next to him and ran a hand through his hair. “That it?”

“She asked if the so-called rumor about us being together was true.”

Jim hummed sympathetically and rubbed Spock’s head in silence until his breathing slowed to normal.

If Jim had ever been confused about why such trivial interactions haunted Spock’s dreams, he had never expressed it. Spock suspected he fully understood. They had discussed the 97 years of Spock’s solitude extensively, and though Spock was still somewhat reticent to fully describe his unhappiness during that time—lest Jim feel unnecessary guilt—it was likely Jim knew the extent of it anyway. 

Jim leaned forward to kiss Spock lightly. “I made you breakfast. I’m gonna go get it, ok?”

“I will join you in the kitchen,” Spock said, starting to get up, but Jim pushed him firmly back down. 

“Absolutely not, mister. You’re having breakfast in bed and that’s an order.” He kissed him once more and disappeared into the hallway, humming off key. 

Spock sat back against the pillows, closing his eyes. His head ached, as it usually did after one of his nightmares. He performed a simple mindfulness exercise, attempting to detect every distinct sound or smell that confirmed Jim’s presence, focusing on nothing else.

There was the sound of Jim’s bare feet on the stone floor of the kitchen, the clinking of plates as he presumably put them on a tray, the lifts and falls of his humming. Spock identified the familiar scent of Jim’s body, the warm smell of his coffee drifting into the bedroom. 

When he heard Jim’s footsteps approaching, Spock opened his eyes, not even trying to contain a small smile as his bondmate walked through the door with a large tray. 

Jim grinned back and put the tray over Spock’s lap, sitting on the end of the bed. “Let me know if you want me to heat anything up.”

“I am sure this will be sufficient,” Spock said, lifting a hot cup of tea to his mouth. “Thank you, _ashayam_.” 

“It’s my pleasure,” Jim reached out and found Spock’s foot, clasping it through the blanket. “Is there anything I can do to help with the nightmares? Or just make you feel more secure in general?”

Spock raised a fond eyebrow. “Other than pampering me at every opportunity?”

Jim ducked his head, coloring slightly. “You noticed, huh? What am I saying—of course you did. Well, is it helping?” 

“Immensely. Do not fret, Jim. You are taking excellent care of me, and I am so very happy.”

Jim sighed and looked hard at Spock. 

“But you’re still so nervous. And sometimes you’re so sad.” 

Spock held his gaze for a few moments but finally sighed, looking down into the warm circle of his tea. 

“Jim, please do not feel guilty when I say this, but the past century has been painful beyond anything I can describe. I would suffer that pain again ad infinitum if it meant even one more day with you, let alone the remainder of my life, but that does not change how… acutely I mourned our separation, or for how long. It is going to take me longer than 8 months to fully accept that I am not going to experience that agony again, that you are not an elaborate hallucination.” 

Jim nodded. He was more than aware that Spock’s grip on reality had been somewhat tenuous since they were reunited. Spock had been reminding himself that Jim was dead for so long that, if they even spent a significant amount of time in different rooms, Spock’s mind would sometimes fall back into the old habit of sternly reminding himself of his husband’s absence. 

Jim crawled back into the bed and settled next to Spock, hand finding its way to Spock’s back, tracing circles and aimless patterns. Spock took one more sip of tea before moving onto the toasted _gespar_ Jim had covered with _soltar_ jelly, a combination most Vulcans would find quite strange, having never experienced “toast and jam.” Spock, however, thought it was delicious. 

A calm, sweet silence stretched around them as Spock ate, Jim’s fingers now rubbing at the sore muscles along Spock’s spine. His headache dissipated, the fear from his nightmare gone like mist sizzling off the increasingly hot ground outside. 

When he was done, Spock put the tray on the floor and snuggled down into Jim’s arms. “The cadet I mentioned—who asked about our relationship to each other. She told me she was studying you in her ‘History of Starfleet’ class.”

Jim snorted. “Christ. That makes me feel weird.”

Spock rubbed his cheek against the soft hair on Jim’s chest. “You were a brilliant and pioneering captain. It would be a grave omission not to teach our 5-year mission at the Academy.”

“I’m pretty sure the admirals thought we were making half our reports up.” 

“I agree,” Spock said with amusement. 

Jim started stroking his fingers through Spock’s hair. “Captain’s log, stardate who-gives-a-fuck. Today Spock got high on spores and started making out with an old flame as well as swinging from a tree branch. I was extremely jealous. The rest of the ship was also involved but the crucial information is this—Spock was _making out_ with a _woman_ and is he ever going to notice I exist? In totally unrelated news, I think I’m in love with Spock. Kirk out.” 

Spock stifled a laugh. “Jim, I assure you I never doubted your existence—we spent nearly every second together.”

Jim ruffled his hair. “You know what I mean.”

“That mission was a rare opportunity for _you_ to feel jealous. It seems only fair as I spent so very much time watching you fall in love with beautiful woman after beautiful woman.”

“Oh, you know I wasn’t really in love with them. Maybe with Edith, I don’t know. But I just craved that moment—that first, tingly attraction, all anticipation and nerves and lust. And I was so lonely, really. I just wanted so badly for someone to touch me with affection.” 

Spock curled tighter around Jim, pressing his fingers perhaps too hard into his ribs.

“You stop that now,” Jim chided, kissing Spock’s forehead. “You weren’t ready. Neither was I. We happened when we were supposed to happen.”

After a moment, Spock said quietly, “After you died, I regretted every wasted moment. I would find myself wishing that I had realized the nature of my feelings earlier. That I had been able to purge earlier in life the shame that kept me from you. That I had come to you immediately upon realizing that I was in love with you.” 

“Wishing for a different past doesn’t seem very logical.”

“Nothing about my devotion to you has ever been logical.”

Jim hummed and tightened his hold around Spock’s shoulder. “Well. No need for those regrets now. In the end you got me for more time than we expected, right?”

Spock lifted his head to look into his bondmate’s warm, gentle face. He could not help a small smile. “There will never be words for how grateful and relieved I am to be in your arms again.”

Jim reached up to rub Spock’s cheek with his thumb. “Nice thing about a telepathic marriage is you don’t really need words.”

Spock closed his eyes and leaned into Jim’s touch before Jim gently steered his head back down onto his chest. 

Spock sighed. He was expected at the New Vulcan Science Academy in 43 minutes, but he was not quite ready to leave Jim’s side. 

“I’ll walk you over,” Jim said, correctly interpreting the slight frustration and anxiety rippling Spock’s side of the bond. But then he rolled suddenly on top of Spock, invading all of Spock’s senses, irrefutably real. “Let’s wait a few minutes, though.”

Spock kissed him, drinking in the achingly familiar taste. “I would wait any amount of time for you.”

Jim smiled, sweet and reassuring. “No need, Spock. I’m right here.” 

\---

“Look at these little assholes.”

Spock glanced up from where he was preparing his day’s schedule at the kitchen table. Jim was standing before the small comm unit on their counter, watching a Federation news report. Spock’s chest warmed at the familiar face on the screen.

“Why are they in the newsvids? Not for something negative, I hope.”

“Oh no, just some diplomatic thing on Rigel V a few days ago. The paparazzi are always swarming there. I’m sure they just love the pretty boy captain with his own personal Vulcan.”

Spock stood and joined his husband at the counter. On the comm screen, their younger counterparts were standing at a small press gathering, Young Jim smiling politely, Young Spock looking distinctly uncomfortable. They had clearly been on their way into the Rigellian Federation embassy but had been bombarded by press for an interview.

“And is there a love interest for either of you?” asked a shrill off-screen voice.

Spock’s lips tightened into a hard line. “What is the relevance of that question?”

Ignoring him, Jim smiled awkwardly and answered, “We’re married,” probably figuring it would get them out of the limelight faster. It didn’t.

“To who?” shouted another voice.

For a moment, Jim just stared silently at whoever had asked the question. He was likely working to resist whatever sarcastic comment he was tempted to make.

“To each other,” he said finally, gesturing between himself and Spock. “Married. Bonded. To each other.”

There was a considerable amount of chattering from the press. Jim sighed visibly and exchanged a glance with his first officer.

“Well, anyway, we’re due at—”

But he was interrupted by an explosion of questions shouted all at once.

“When did you get married?”

“Does Starfleet know?”

“Is that _legal_?”

Jim squinted, obviously reaching deep into his soul for patience. The microphones shoved in their faces were close enough to catch a brief conversation between the newlyweds:

“You gonna help me here?”

“I am not, Captain.”

“Great. Thanks for the support.”

With a fake smile, Jim addressed the reporters, “We’ve been legally married for eight months and of course Starfleet knows, or we wouldn’t be announcing it to the press. We’re very happy. Now, we really must be—”

“What’s a Vulcan like in bed?”

Spock’s eyebrows shot into his hairline and Jim’s face darkened.

“Vulcans are extremely private about sex, buddy. Stop being a xenophobic fuckwaffle.”

Spock turned his shocked expression on his husband. Jim caught himself.

“Uh, I mean—that’s a culturally inappropriate question that we’re not going to answer. We really have to go now, we’re late for a diplomatic function.”

With a nod, he grabbed Spock’s elbow and dragged him away.

In the warm New Vulcan kitchen, Jim laughed, turning off the comm. Spock wanted to bottle that bright, sweet sound and lose himself in it.

“Poor kids,” Jim said. He took a seat at the table, shaking his head fondly. “At least we didn’t have to deal with that much. I can’t believe he called a reporter a fuckwaffle!”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed, joining him at the table. He picked up his communicator and texted the young captain, “I enjoyed your very serious interview from Rigel V.”

Almost no time passed before he received the response, “KILL ME.”

Spock chuckled and returned to his day plan, but less than a minute later another text came in: “I looked super hot though, huh?”

“Always,” Spock returned, and then showed the conversation to Jim with a little smirk.

Jim grinned. “Dirty old flirt.”

Spock put his comm in his pocket with smug satisfaction.

“I’d kinda love to get my hands on Little Spock. It’s no fair you got to fuck your hot young bondmate and I didn’t.”

“You are welcome to try of course, with my blessing. But I wish you luck, my love. My counterpart is rather obsessively devoted to his husband.”

Jim smiled, warm and sweet. “Can’t imagine what that’s like. Besides, it’d be a nice thrill, but I prefer my Spocks old and experienced.”

“Illogical. I may be experienced, but I am also limited by my ageing physicality. You cannot be as rough with me as you once were.”

“We still get pretty rough,” Jim shrugged with a soft leer. “Don’t fight it—I just like you best.”

Spock smiled. “I am gratified.”

He returned to his day plan, but a few minutes later Jim’s fingers began stroking his own, low-boiling lust drifting through the bond. Spock glanced up.

“I am due at the council chambers in 72.8 minutes, Jim.”

“Plenty of time.” Jim was making his eyes smoulder in the way that had first made Spock fall in love with him, and to which he had always remained powerless.

Spock shuddered suddenly, remembering how many years he had been without those eyes and how impossible it was that he had them once again.

Jim’s face creased with gentle understanding. He stood and held out his arms. “Come on, darling.”

Spock obediently took his hands and let Jim lead him into the bedroom. If losing himself in Jim made Spock late for his meeting, so be it.

\---

_Spock let his shoulders slump uncharacteristically. His muscles were so warm and loose that he didn’t want to straighten his spine, wanted just to melt into the sunny tingling of his skin._

_Jim referred to the post-coital period as “the afterglow,” and although Spock had been initially puzzled by the colloquialism, he was beginning to understand it on an intrinsic level. For approximately 15 – 25 minutes after achieving orgasm with Jim, Spock’s mental processing slowed pleasantly and his sated body maintained a temperature a full 1.54 degrees above Vulcan normal. He felt like a cat curled up in the sun._

_“Earth to Commander Spock.”_

_Spock slowly opened his eyes to find Jim standing above him, sweet crooked smile and shining hazel eyes. He had gotten dressed again and had his hands on his hips._

_“You are not on Earth and thus cannot hail me from there. We are in fact on the same starship, currently traveling through the Beta Quadrant.”_

_Jim snorted and got onto the bed, crawling to Spock on his hands and knees. He licked at Spock’s mouth until he opened it and returned the kiss, hands curling in Jim’s tawny hair._

_Against Spock’s mouth, Jim murmured, “We’re due back on the bridge, my lazy Vulcan.”_

_Spock slipped a hand under Jim’s uniform to feel the warm human skin and accompanying thrum of contented emotions. “I do not wish to return to the bridge. I wish to stay in bed with you.”_

_“Mm,” Jim trailed light kisses down Spock’s neck. “Then we should probably stop taking sex breaks on duty.”_

_“I do not wish to do that either.”_

_Jim laughed. “You’re especially stubborn today, Mr. Spock. Alright, take your time getting dressed. I’ll see you on the bridge.”_

_Spock whined in protest and clung to Jim’s neck. Jim breathed against his ear, giving it a conciliatory kiss. “We’ll have all night to be together. Let’s just get through Alpha, knock off our reports, and then lock the doors and ignore our comms. How’s that sound?”_

_“Satisfactory,” Spock said grudgingly, and Jim laughed again. He got off the bed and crossed to the doors of his quarters, giving Spock one last smile before he slipped out._

_Spock allowed himself a sigh and lay back against the pillows. He was still so pleasantly warm, so relaxed. Perhaps he would just close his eyes for a few moments—_

“Spock, sweetheart, wake up.”

Spock’s eyes cracked open. His neck ached, and for a moment he wasn’t sure why, but then he realized he was curled over his desk, head on his arms on the smooth wooden surface. 

He looked blearily up to find Jim standing over him, rubbing his back and smiling.

“Thought you probably didn’t want to be sleeping at your desk, Old Man.”

Spock stood stiffly, rubbing his neck. “Thank you, _t’hy’la_. I was indeed causing discomfort to my trapezius muscle.”

Jim snorted. “Well, let’s get you and your trapezius muscle into bed and I’ll give you a neck massage.” 

Spock nodded sleepily and followed Jim out of his study, puttering through his nightly grooming rituals before joining Jim in the bedroom. Jim patted the bed next to him with a smile and Spock crawled in, relaxing into the touch of Jim’s soft, wide hands as they began rubbing firmly at Spock’s neck and shoulders.

“You were muttering in your sleep a little,” Jim said. “When you were at your desk. Another nightmare?”

Spock smiled. “Negative. I was in fact dreaming about a post-coital interaction we shared on the _Enterprise_ , early in our involvement.”

Jim laughed. “Well, that’s a nice change from the nightmares.”

Spock was already drifting back toward sleep. Jim seemed to notice and lay back, pulling Spock with him and into his arms. 

“I love you, Jim,” Spock muttered. “I apologize for any time I gave you cause to doubt it, and for any moment that love brought you pain.”

“Spock,” chided Jim’s quiet, familiar voice. “No more apologies about the past, ok? We’ve had a long life together, and we both made mistakes, just like everybody does. We’re together now, and everything’s ok. Let’s just enjoy it.”

“A logical plan, Captain.”

Jim laughed. “Oh, and Spock? I love you, too.”

Spock smiled against his husband’s skin. The years fell away as he drifted to sleep, and in his dreams they were still in the stars together, no destination, Spock where he had always been and always would be. At Jim’s side.


End file.
